I have not forgotten you, Atapara
Land of my ancestors
Beautiful place of my birth
Your fresh air, singing birds, sleeping boulders
Is the memory I always carry
Your messages have been received:
Poverty has usurped power
Children have forgotten the dusty paths to school
Mothers have been left alone
And our fathers have become bosom friends with alcohol
I will return, Atapara; so will all your children
Its tough out here, but we are pushing on
You didn’t teach us giving up
Our paths, and that of money, or those leading to it,
Are yet to cross, Atapara.
But this sun will not set before that!